Of Pounds and Crowns - A Tudor Tale
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,928
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,928
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Of Pounds and Crowns
The places and people depicted in the fiction are of my own creation. Any likeness to real people are places is coincedental...However as King Henry VIII, Anne, Mary & George Boleyn, Queen Catherine of Aragon and the Duke of Suffolk were real, this is how I picture him to be, it is not fact nor should it be taken as true. This is merely a work of fiction, and all original characters such as Victoria, her father and ANY further original character that may feature in this story belong to me. Please do not copy or plagerize this story in any way, shape or form.
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Chapter 1: Of Pounds and Crowns…
The air was damp, freezing cold upon my skin as I stepped out of my carriage. The sky above me was as dark as night could be yet I still feared for daylight. My skin prickled up, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the ringing of a nearby church bell signified the late hour. The foreboding feel I felt within myself was eclipsed by the depth of my fear to be back in the one place my father had sworn I would never return.
But my father wasn’t around to protect me with his wealth or his title any longer. I was the sole heir to his entire fortune; he left me as a wealthy Lady in my own right. My father, the Earl of Brookshire had died not twenty days ago, before I had been summoned by his majesty himself King Henry VIII. I had been firm friends with Henry in his boyhood, my father had been one of Henry VII most trusted advisors. I had entertained the wildly prince with my sarcasm and humor or so he said. He had often begged of me to tell him stories of other worlds, of dragons and steely knights ready to save their lady loves.
My father, being almost sixty when he retired from court thought it best to take me away, I was just a mere child of 12. My mother had died in childbirth and my father so broken hearted had refused to marry again. I always thought it saddening that my father grieved for my mother until the very day he died. Henry had once told me that once a heart breaks, that it will never be whole again. Wise words for such a boy so young.
Court, for me was a cruel and ambitious place. A place no child should ever have to experience while youth and splendor beguile them. It is a vast and wondrous place that I only ever thought about when I heard about my childhood friend’s latest exploits. Henry VIII was know king of the country, and changed from the death of his brother. Arthur had died and left a widow, Catherine of Aragon, whom it was rumored to, be now Henry’s first wife. I always thought it was a little egotistical of Henry to marry his brother’s widow.
Was it my mind that played its famous tricks on me? Why did I honestly think Henry had asked me to return to court? I had a vague feeling it was to do with my sudden wealth and status. However if I believe I knew Henry as I did, from the letter’s I received from him up until my 16th birthday, he was not the type of man I was preparing myself for. The type of king he had been rumored to be. I was scared of his reputation, but not of the kind soul that had proclaimed his love for me at the mere age of eight.
True, I was my father’s only child, the jewel of his crown, as he used to call me, but never would he allow me to be traded like cattle for the amusement and advancement of men. I was my own free spirit, which any man would be lucky to have according to my father. Although I thought myself fair, Henry always called me his English rose, my beauty like a breath of fresh air to a withering world. I found myself smiling despite the heaviness of my stomach.
I knew the palace like the back of my hand. I was led to the chambers I once stayed in as a child. The air was familiar as I breathed it in. The color of the master bed had not changed since I had laid my head in it not seven years ago. I looked around the room, and all I saw was him. His light red curls bouncing merrily as we hopped from bed to bed. I finally let myself be calm as I was left alone to dwell on my ever present thoughts.
~:~
By the light of the morning I awoke. A tedious rapping upon my door pulled me from my slumber, and I rose. My stomach fluttering as if filled with a thousand butterflies, at the mere thought of seeing my childhood companion. I was contemplative as I was laced into my emerald green gown, sighing lightly as I slipped on my heels, much to my chagrin. My good friend Charles Brandon had been sent to fetch me, and accompany me for my meeting with the king.
I stepped into the receiving room and my breath caught in my throat. Charles Brandon was not the same young man I remembered. He was tall, almost over muscular in his stance. His hair was lightly shorn, a dark brown cap of curls on his crown. His eyes the same mesmerizing green as ever. I was breathless as I looked at him, longing filling my heart.
“My darling Vicky,” he drawled as he stepped toward me.
“May I be familiar?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.
“Must you even ask?” he laughed.
“Charles!” I crooned as his arms wrapped around me, much to the discomfort of attendees of my room.
“Vicky, Vicky, Vicky. Your beauty is dazzling, oh how you have changed!” he said as he smiled at me.
“As have you, Charles,” I grinned.
“Henry is eager to see you,” he confessed.
“I find myself conflicted, Charles. It has been such a long time,” I admitted.
“We have missed you, my love, Henry the most,” he whispered.
“How is he?” I asked, genuinely concerned for my former friend.
“He is well, not so much can be said for Catherine, she is very weak,” he said with a sigh.
“I have heard of the queen’s rapid illness, is there nothing that can be done?” I asked, as he escorted me from my chambers.
“Nothing, my love. She is fading before his eyes. I fear for Henry’s reign if his Queen is to perish,” he confided.
“Let’s talk later, Charles. I really have missed you,” I smiled.
“And I you, sweet Vicky, more than you will ever know.” he said as he took a step before entering the room, announcing my arrival.
I walked forward my head down, and I curtsied to the man who had once called me his one true love. He looked on at me, the surprise swimming in his handsome features. His hair was a mess of riotous curls, which I longed to run my fingers through, to see if they felt the same beneath my fingers now as they did when I was but a girl. His eye’s were wide, the bright cerulean of blue shone back at me. I was in awe of the man who now stood before me as my king.
He motioned for his guard to leave us be. I relaxed my posture ever so slightly, as he stood to his feet, myself, Charles and him alone in the room.
“It has been a long time my Lady,” he said, his voice deep and rough. It sent a shiver through my body.
“So it has, your Majesty,” I smiled, hesitantly.
“Victoria,” he said, his baritone affecting me more than it should.
“Henry,” I said with an almost purr.
The delight in his eyes was instant. He swept me up into his arms, as if it were yesterday since I had last occupied them. But this was not the boy who sang me lullabies; this was a man who ruled a country, a man of power and strength. Yet my heart beat like I was still a child, wild and pounding as his scent consumed me. His fingers were like fire on the flesh of my cheek, his own vision burning into mine. I felt the fear I had held of the very moment; evaporate as if it never were.
“By God, how I have missed you, tell me dear Vicky, have you missed me too?” he asked his voice filled with hope.
“I cannot lie, Henry. I have, I have missed you this entire world and all the next,” I confessed without reservation.
“Ahh, Vic, my English rose. How I have missed your worldly proclamations,” He jested.
“You jest, my fair headed playmate?” I said, eyebrow raised.
“Oh I jest, my love. I jest and think it most amusing,” he said with a grin.
“It is good to see you have not changed, Henry. Your modesty is as always a virtue,”
“Yes, my dearling, it is. I see you have changed, and by gods grace, into a most beautiful young woman,” he said with a wink.
“Oh you flatter me, Henry. You forget I remember you when you were but a boy,”
He laughed and placed his hands on my shoulders, “But I am not a boy now, Vicky. I am a man. A man who can see beauty when it stares him in the face,”
“Oh come now Henry, you say it only to make me blush!” I laughed.
“And what a pretty blush it is,” he said as he looked at me.
“I must ask, Henry, and please do be honest with me, why have you asked me here today?” I asked.
“Surely you have heard of the situation with France?” He asked and I shook my head. “We have all the grounds for a war against them, but a lack of real support. Cardinal Wolsey has drummed up European alliances with Spain, and so forth.”
“Continue,” I said briefly.
“My alliance with Spain has been mainly because of Catherine. Since she has contracted this infliction that she has, she has begun to wane. Wolsey has brought it to my attention that I need look for another wife,”
“Henry, what exactly are you saying?”
“I am asking you to be that person. I am asking you to be my wife,” he said simply, as if he had not asked something of me, in monstrous proportion.
My heart quickened, and I’m sure the effect showed upon my face and chest. Be his wife? Be Queen of England? It was absolutely ludicrous.
“Henry, please think of what you are asking of me,” I said solemnly.
Charles slipped from the chamber unnoticed by either of us; I was too caught up in what was being thrust at me, blindly.
“I have thought, I have thought about naught but for months. You are the closest thing to love I have ever felt, and it makes no greater sense for me but to have you as my wife,”
“Henry, I am astounded,” I said, truthfully, my brain a buzz of dumfounded thought.
He took my hands and brought them to his lips. A shiver ran down my spine as his full lips touched the heated skin of my knuckles. The blush was almost feverish in its intensity as it flamed across my cheeks.
“Say you will, Victoria. I will make you the happiest woman there ever was,” he pledged.
I was confused beyond reason. Did he not have the faintest idea of what he was asking me? To consent to be his sweetheart is one thing, but to agree to become his queen is another.
_____________________________________________________
I am extremely nervous about this story, it is my first original work. I am also a HP writer, my pen name LadyVoldemort87. It is a big step for me to publish this, but I hope you all like it. Reviews are appreciated.
_____________________________________________________
The air was damp, freezing cold upon my skin as I stepped out of my carriage. The sky above me was as dark as night could be yet I still feared for daylight. My skin prickled up, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the ringing of a nearby church bell signified the late hour. The foreboding feel I felt within myself was eclipsed by the depth of my fear to be back in the one place my father had sworn I would never return.
But my father wasn’t around to protect me with his wealth or his title any longer. I was the sole heir to his entire fortune; he left me as a wealthy Lady in my own right. My father, the Earl of Brookshire had died not twenty days ago, before I had been summoned by his majesty himself King Henry VIII. I had been firm friends with Henry in his boyhood, my father had been one of Henry VII most trusted advisors. I had entertained the wildly prince with my sarcasm and humor or so he said. He had often begged of me to tell him stories of other worlds, of dragons and steely knights ready to save their lady loves.
My father, being almost sixty when he retired from court thought it best to take me away, I was just a mere child of 12. My mother had died in childbirth and my father so broken hearted had refused to marry again. I always thought it saddening that my father grieved for my mother until the very day he died. Henry had once told me that once a heart breaks, that it will never be whole again. Wise words for such a boy so young.
Court, for me was a cruel and ambitious place. A place no child should ever have to experience while youth and splendor beguile them. It is a vast and wondrous place that I only ever thought about when I heard about my childhood friend’s latest exploits. Henry VIII was know king of the country, and changed from the death of his brother. Arthur had died and left a widow, Catherine of Aragon, whom it was rumored to, be now Henry’s first wife. I always thought it was a little egotistical of Henry to marry his brother’s widow.
Was it my mind that played its famous tricks on me? Why did I honestly think Henry had asked me to return to court? I had a vague feeling it was to do with my sudden wealth and status. However if I believe I knew Henry as I did, from the letter’s I received from him up until my 16th birthday, he was not the type of man I was preparing myself for. The type of king he had been rumored to be. I was scared of his reputation, but not of the kind soul that had proclaimed his love for me at the mere age of eight.
True, I was my father’s only child, the jewel of his crown, as he used to call me, but never would he allow me to be traded like cattle for the amusement and advancement of men. I was my own free spirit, which any man would be lucky to have according to my father. Although I thought myself fair, Henry always called me his English rose, my beauty like a breath of fresh air to a withering world. I found myself smiling despite the heaviness of my stomach.
I knew the palace like the back of my hand. I was led to the chambers I once stayed in as a child. The air was familiar as I breathed it in. The color of the master bed had not changed since I had laid my head in it not seven years ago. I looked around the room, and all I saw was him. His light red curls bouncing merrily as we hopped from bed to bed. I finally let myself be calm as I was left alone to dwell on my ever present thoughts.
By the light of the morning I awoke. A tedious rapping upon my door pulled me from my slumber, and I rose. My stomach fluttering as if filled with a thousand butterflies, at the mere thought of seeing my childhood companion. I was contemplative as I was laced into my emerald green gown, sighing lightly as I slipped on my heels, much to my chagrin. My good friend Charles Brandon had been sent to fetch me, and accompany me for my meeting with the king.
I stepped into the receiving room and my breath caught in my throat. Charles Brandon was not the same young man I remembered. He was tall, almost over muscular in his stance. His hair was lightly shorn, a dark brown cap of curls on his crown. His eyes the same mesmerizing green as ever. I was breathless as I looked at him, longing filling my heart.
“My darling Vicky,” he drawled as he stepped toward me.
“May I be familiar?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.
“Must you even ask?” he laughed.
“Charles!” I crooned as his arms wrapped around me, much to the discomfort of attendees of my room.
“Vicky, Vicky, Vicky. Your beauty is dazzling, oh how you have changed!” he said as he smiled at me.
“As have you, Charles,” I grinned.
“Henry is eager to see you,” he confessed.
“I find myself conflicted, Charles. It has been such a long time,” I admitted.
“We have missed you, my love, Henry the most,” he whispered.
“How is he?” I asked, genuinely concerned for my former friend.
“He is well, not so much can be said for Catherine, she is very weak,” he said with a sigh.
“I have heard of the queen’s rapid illness, is there nothing that can be done?” I asked, as he escorted me from my chambers.
“Nothing, my love. She is fading before his eyes. I fear for Henry’s reign if his Queen is to perish,” he confided.
“Let’s talk later, Charles. I really have missed you,” I smiled.
“And I you, sweet Vicky, more than you will ever know.” he said as he took a step before entering the room, announcing my arrival.
I walked forward my head down, and I curtsied to the man who had once called me his one true love. He looked on at me, the surprise swimming in his handsome features. His hair was a mess of riotous curls, which I longed to run my fingers through, to see if they felt the same beneath my fingers now as they did when I was but a girl. His eye’s were wide, the bright cerulean of blue shone back at me. I was in awe of the man who now stood before me as my king.
He motioned for his guard to leave us be. I relaxed my posture ever so slightly, as he stood to his feet, myself, Charles and him alone in the room.
“It has been a long time my Lady,” he said, his voice deep and rough. It sent a shiver through my body.
“So it has, your Majesty,” I smiled, hesitantly.
“Victoria,” he said, his baritone affecting me more than it should.
“Henry,” I said with an almost purr.
The delight in his eyes was instant. He swept me up into his arms, as if it were yesterday since I had last occupied them. But this was not the boy who sang me lullabies; this was a man who ruled a country, a man of power and strength. Yet my heart beat like I was still a child, wild and pounding as his scent consumed me. His fingers were like fire on the flesh of my cheek, his own vision burning into mine. I felt the fear I had held of the very moment; evaporate as if it never were.
“By God, how I have missed you, tell me dear Vicky, have you missed me too?” he asked his voice filled with hope.
“I cannot lie, Henry. I have, I have missed you this entire world and all the next,” I confessed without reservation.
“Ahh, Vic, my English rose. How I have missed your worldly proclamations,” He jested.
“You jest, my fair headed playmate?” I said, eyebrow raised.
“Oh I jest, my love. I jest and think it most amusing,” he said with a grin.
“It is good to see you have not changed, Henry. Your modesty is as always a virtue,”
“Yes, my dearling, it is. I see you have changed, and by gods grace, into a most beautiful young woman,” he said with a wink.
“Oh you flatter me, Henry. You forget I remember you when you were but a boy,”
He laughed and placed his hands on my shoulders, “But I am not a boy now, Vicky. I am a man. A man who can see beauty when it stares him in the face,”
“Oh come now Henry, you say it only to make me blush!” I laughed.
“And what a pretty blush it is,” he said as he looked at me.
“I must ask, Henry, and please do be honest with me, why have you asked me here today?” I asked.
“Surely you have heard of the situation with France?” He asked and I shook my head. “We have all the grounds for a war against them, but a lack of real support. Cardinal Wolsey has drummed up European alliances with Spain, and so forth.”
“Continue,” I said briefly.
“My alliance with Spain has been mainly because of Catherine. Since she has contracted this infliction that she has, she has begun to wane. Wolsey has brought it to my attention that I need look for another wife,”
“Henry, what exactly are you saying?”
“I am asking you to be that person. I am asking you to be my wife,” he said simply, as if he had not asked something of me, in monstrous proportion.
My heart quickened, and I’m sure the effect showed upon my face and chest. Be his wife? Be Queen of England? It was absolutely ludicrous.
“Henry, please think of what you are asking of me,” I said solemnly.
Charles slipped from the chamber unnoticed by either of us; I was too caught up in what was being thrust at me, blindly.
“I have thought, I have thought about naught but for months. You are the closest thing to love I have ever felt, and it makes no greater sense for me but to have you as my wife,”
“Henry, I am astounded,” I said, truthfully, my brain a buzz of dumfounded thought.
He took my hands and brought them to his lips. A shiver ran down my spine as his full lips touched the heated skin of my knuckles. The blush was almost feverish in its intensity as it flamed across my cheeks.
“Say you will, Victoria. I will make you the happiest woman there ever was,” he pledged.
I was confused beyond reason. Did he not have the faintest idea of what he was asking me? To consent to be his sweetheart is one thing, but to agree to become his queen is another.
_____________________________________________________
I am extremely nervous about this story, it is my first original work. I am also a HP writer, my pen name LadyVoldemort87. It is a big step for me to publish this, but I hope you all like it. Reviews are appreciated.